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Entry tags:
places please
I'd heard about it, but I didn't really understand how beautiful Arizona is. Or how hot.
El Paso struck me as a downtown that is not just failed but actually horrible.
In Texas I made my first significant departure from the interstates, reaching Austin via the two-lane U.S. 290. For the first time on this trip I was seeing people and buildings instead of just cars and skylines. Also it made it easier to swing into a gas station parking lot for another Dr. Pepper.
Texas is the only place I've been that actually mandates a lower speed limit at night than in daylight, apparently not trusting its citizens to adjust for conditions themselves. It's also the only place I can remember seeing a carpool lane that's actually walled off from the rest of the highway.
East of Austin, the tragic but unavoidable incidents in which insects lost their lives to my windshield cascaded into a full-scale massacre. Things didn't let up until Atlanta.
Louisiana is where the open spaces of the West gave way to the claustrophobic deciduous parkways of the East. I have fewer photographs from Louisiana on, but they're probably better.
Night in New Orleans was just frustrating--overpriced and overcrowded, full of visitors and the people who cater to them, dependent on the selling of a myth about itself. Added to that was the frustration of being car-bound in any pre-automotive city. In the morning, though, it was empty and easy.
Objectively, you'd have to say my night in Atlanta was bad. An open mike I'd "confirmed" turned out to be defunct; I ended up with a fast-food burrito and a failed attempt to see a movie. But just driving around in Atlanta makes me happy. I don't know why. In the morning, though, I went to a self-proclaimed "diner" with valet parking and a dress code. What?
Asheville is the Santa Cruz of the South. College students, good vegetarian food, leftist politics, too much art, a strange degree of tourism. But no ocean.
El Paso struck me as a downtown that is not just failed but actually horrible.
In Texas I made my first significant departure from the interstates, reaching Austin via the two-lane U.S. 290. For the first time on this trip I was seeing people and buildings instead of just cars and skylines. Also it made it easier to swing into a gas station parking lot for another Dr. Pepper.
Texas is the only place I've been that actually mandates a lower speed limit at night than in daylight, apparently not trusting its citizens to adjust for conditions themselves. It's also the only place I can remember seeing a carpool lane that's actually walled off from the rest of the highway.
East of Austin, the tragic but unavoidable incidents in which insects lost their lives to my windshield cascaded into a full-scale massacre. Things didn't let up until Atlanta.
Louisiana is where the open spaces of the West gave way to the claustrophobic deciduous parkways of the East. I have fewer photographs from Louisiana on, but they're probably better.
Night in New Orleans was just frustrating--overpriced and overcrowded, full of visitors and the people who cater to them, dependent on the selling of a myth about itself. Added to that was the frustration of being car-bound in any pre-automotive city. In the morning, though, it was empty and easy.
Objectively, you'd have to say my night in Atlanta was bad. An open mike I'd "confirmed" turned out to be defunct; I ended up with a fast-food burrito and a failed attempt to see a movie. But just driving around in Atlanta makes me happy. I don't know why. In the morning, though, I went to a self-proclaimed "diner" with valet parking and a dress code. What?
Asheville is the Santa Cruz of the South. College students, good vegetarian food, leftist politics, too much art, a strange degree of tourism. But no ocean.